Purgatory
by PsychoAsh
Summary: There was a shroud of mystery and tragedy around the house in forest. No one knew the truth about what happened thirty years ago. The recently moved in coven of vampires will come close to the answer, but the only one who really knows is lost, tethered to the world she long since departed, trapped in purgatory.
1. Chapter 1

_August 3rd 12:14 a.m._

 _It was the largest house in Forks, Washington. A mansion for all intents and purposes, standing three stories tall and with the feel of a southern plantation. The porch wrapped around and held rocking chairs and a swing that creaked as the cold wind pushed against it. The white paint was in need of retouching and the shutters that shielded the windows from the outside mist were chipped and rotting. At one time, the house had been the gem of the small town. Now, it was a reminder. The house had been abandoned for thirty years, the air around it thick with tragedy and loss, the scent of death-while long since gone after many rains-could easily be imagined, intertwined with the ivy that crept up the railings of the porch and threatened to entrap any who trespass. An old engine broke through the eerie quiet as the moon settled behind the clouds, harsh lights falling over the house as the beat up blue van loudly drove up the gravel drive._

 _It had long since become a game, a right of passage, for high school students to spend the night within the house. Ever since the game began twenty five years ago, after a camper had heard gut wrenching screams emanating through the nailed windows, many groups of thrill-seeking teenagers had attempted to stay longer than the last._

 _The record was three hours._

 _Five students exited the van, some excited and armed with video cameras and snacks while some were more cautious, clinging to each other and hoarding the flashlights._

" _Guys, wouldn't you rather go to the movies?" Angela asked, her voice trembling with nerves as she eyed the house, her knuckles turning white from her firm grip on the light._

" _Come on Angela, it'll be fun!" Tyler threw his arm over her shoulders and squeezed her too him. "I can see the college essays now: I survived the night in a haunted house!" He joked. Angela rolled her eyes and shoved him away, marching ahead of him, but stopping short of the stairs leading up to the house. Jessica slipped her hand in Angela's before carefully guiding her through the vine covered stairs and onto the porch._

" _Hey Mike, throw me a beer!" She called over the railing toward the boys as they dragged a cooler out of the back of the van. Mike reached into the ice and grabbed a can before jogging up the stairs confidently and handing the can to the girl with an exaggerated and passionate kiss. Angela looked away politely and fumbled with the can as Jessica handed it to her before intertwining her hands in Mikes hair. Even though she was not one to normally turn to alcohol, looking anywhere by the house and her enthralled friends, Angela popped the tab and took a long drink, shuddering as the cheap fermented tasted burned her throat._

" _Mike, Jess, there are plenty of rooms upstairs!" Ben called as he and Tyler ambulated up the stairs with the cooler sloshing between them. The reminder of their location made the couple split apart, each student now looking at the large wooden door. In its heyday the ornately carved door was its featured item. It stood eight feet tall, a beautiful cherry on iron hinges, with swirls carefully hand carved into it's frame. The window was stained glass with no obvious image, just an array of greens, blues, and yellows. Now, the wood was dark and, having not been taken care of, was engorged with mildew and water. The hinges were rusted and the window was broken, grossly replaced with a cardboard cut out pushed into the frame. The group stared at the door with bated breath, each almost expecting some unknown force to blow it open and invite them in. Seconds passed before Mike puffed up his chest and reached out, only the slight trembling of his hand showed his nerves as he gripped the knob and turned it slowly and pushing forward._

 _It was anticlimactic how the door stuck to the frame, yet it was a forewarning, had any of the group been superstitious enough to have seen it. Only Angela's hair raised as Mike and Tyler both had to throw their weight at the door to gain entry, but after another bitter gulp of alcohol, she ignored it and followed her friends into the mansion._

" _I didn't know it was empty." Ben stated, dragging the cooler in by himself, the plastic scraping against the layers of dust that covered the once beautiful hardwood floor._

" _I heard the dad had everything burned," Jessica whispered, before folding herself up in the middle of the floor. "Apparently everything was covered in blood so, what else was he supposed to do with it? Even Goodwill wouldn't take that shit."_

" _I didn't think he left until his wife died," Angela wondered quietly, finishing her beer as the group looked over at her. The attention, the house, the topic… her empty can was quickly replaced with another. Ben wrapped his arm around her waist and gently guided her to middle of the floor._

" _Yeah, but she didn't want to let go, so she must have just covered everything up in like...sheets and stuff," Jessica rambled, struggling to cover the flaw in her story._

" _Did you hear that Mrs. Mallory is trying to sell this place again?" Mike asked as he and Tyler joined the group, creating a semicircle. "Something about the market being just right for someone to see the "charm" of the house."_

" _Do you think she'll tell the new owners about what happened?" Angela asked softly. No one answered for a moment. Tyler cleared his throat, reaching into his backpack for a bag of chips and a flashlight._

" _Well there is only one thing to do to start off our night of greatness!" He turned on the flashlight and turned it under his chin. "Let me tell you the tragic story of what really happened to Isabella Swan."_


	2. Chapter 2

Five Months Later: January 3rd 5:36 a.m.

EPOV

Esme had done a fantastic job, there was no denying it. It was her gift: nurturing the abandoned, decrepit, and damned back to life. She had done it with each of us, her maternal instinct forging the very bond that held our family together. Everything she touched flourished, and this new house was not an exception. She waited on the porch, bouncing excitedly next to Carlisle as my siblings and I pulled up, the headlights of our cars reflected off of the snow and perfectly illuminated her proud smile.

 _This house is my favorite, Edward. Oh just wait until you see!_ Carlisle wrapped his arm around her waist in a half-hearted attempted to calm her, but his matching smile proved that he enjoyed her happiness.

 _She really is an artist._ He thought fondly. I parked my Volvo in front of the house, foregoing the garage momentarily, unable to resist the excitement emanating from my parents. They had come out a week ahead of us, making sure the house was completely perfect before the family moved in. Esme threw her arms around me, as if a week had been too long, making her husband chuckle.

"You would think you haven't seen them in years," Carlisle laughed. Esme pulled away, throwing a playful glare at him, before attempting (and failing) at straightening my hair.

"I missed my family. Sue me." She huffed, threading her arm through mine. Carlisle growled playfully at her. _She didn't mind being away a few hours ago._ I quickly ignored the rest of his thoughts as we walked through the impressive door. "I had a replica made. The original was almost completely rotten through, but the detail on it was too good to give up on. Fortunately, I found a picture of the house in its prime and was able to even replicate the intricate stained glass feature." She bragged, petting the large cherry door fondly as she closed it behind us.

"Esme, I love the windows!" Alice's shrill voice called as they walked in from the garage. Sure enough, the entire back portion of the house was covered in floor to ceiling windows. The light of the rising sun just beginning to filter in from between the trees, filling the house in a low blue light that made the newly polished floors glisten. "It's so open!" Esme puffed up in pride and began the grand tour of our new house, going into detail all of the renovations she had done, comparing the new design to its former glory. We followed her along, each knowing that the tour was unneeded, but indulging our mother anyway as she boasted her hard work. I was only half listening, taking in characteristics of the house that she never touched.

The smell, for instance. Each house seemed to have it's own distinct scent, each as individual and specific to the house as a scent is to a creature. Over its life, the house will uptake the scents of its occupants creating a concoction of life-tears, sadness, anger, and joy- that gave the house a whole new character. This house, for instance, on the surface smelled of fresh paint, stain, and overall newness. Underneath the surface, there was a layer of dust that had resided in the abandoned house for so long, it became part of the house itself. Even further in the scape of scents, was a floral undertone. A mixture of lilac and freesia along with… something warm that I couldn't place.

We were on the third floor which only had one door nestled in between two wall-length bookcases. _Your room,_ Esme thought toward me, bouncing on her toes again. I shot her a smile before I opened the door, revealing an enormous suite.

"This is too much, Mom." I gasped, seeing my piano tucked away in its own corner amongst walls of records and sheets of music. She waved me off happily. "Thank you, you did splendid as always." I kissed her cheek before backing out of the room.

 _It was a joy. Honestly, I feel like this house was meant for us. It really only need some tender love and care._ And she had given it plenty of that. Even the ceiling on the third floor was newly spackled and painted a light neutral color. Only one thing stood out to me though. In the middle of the ceiling was a square that was slightly unleveled, as if something had been boarded up and then painted over.

"An attic?" I asked, curious over why she had chosen to board it up instead of turning it into a studio. She followed my gaze and shrugged.

"The whole thing was rotten, apparently. Some kids had gotten into the house and fell through the stairs. One child broke her collarbone in the fall, poor thing." She sighed. "I decided that it would be best to just keep it boarded up for now. Maybe it'll be my next project, but it's not as if we really needed an attic anyway." Suddenly, the rest of family flitted up the stairs to us, having investigated their own spaces and just as curious about the attic as I was.

"I thought this house was abandoned. Why were there kids in here?" Carlisle asked, suddenly concerned over the privacy surrounding the house. Esme sighed and grabbed his hand.

"I might as well tell you now, I'm sure you'll hear about it tomorrow." She paused for a moment. "The people of Forks are under the impression that this house is haunted. There was a terrible tragedy thirty years ago and… well apparently the teenagers of Forks High School like to try and _survive the night_."

"A haunted house! Cool!" Emmett exclaimed, rubbing his hands together. _A whole new way to scare little humans._

"It's not as if it's really haunted though. Ghosts don't exist," Jasper rolled his eyes, shoving Emmett's shoulder. Alice cocked her head to the side, glancing up the ceiling.

"I don't know, Jazz. Vampires exist, why not ghosts?" She asked him cryptically. Her thoughts suddenly full of theories concerning vampires and ghosts. Slowly my family began to make their way back downstairs, Emmett declaring a horror movie night to break in our own _survive the night_. I started to follow behind, but stopped in my tracks after only three steps.

The scent of lilac and freesias suddenly grew exponentially, as if someone had shoved a bouquet directly under my nose. My gaze passed over the entrance to the attic, now directly overhead, before I shook my head and flitted downstairs.

It was all nonsense anyway.


	3. Chapter 3

_August 3rd 12:19 a.m._

" _Wait so why do you think you know what really happened?" Jessica asked, rolling her eyes and stealing a chip out of Mike's hand. Tyler shrugged._

" _My cousin went all Mystery Inc. on her. Interviewed teachers, analyzed yearbooks, he even spent his own_ survive the night _investigating this very house." Liam Crowely certainly had developed an obsession over the life and death of Isabella Swan. He had tracked down her schedule from Forks High and interviewed all of her teachers. Though for his efforts, he did not come up with much. Isabella Swan was simply not an exciting person. She never participated in any clubs in school, hovered in the B average crowd, and was not stunningly attractive. The few friendships she was able to make were hollow and fizzled out quickly. The only true friendship she had was with the art instructor Ms. Barrywick. Isabella never took an art class in her life, but had a natural talent. She frequently submitted her work into art shows under a pseudonym. Only Linda Barrywick knew the truth behind the stunning paintings and sketches that always won first._

 _She was devastated by the loss of Isabella and moved across the country almost immediately following her memorial service._

" _Now do we want to hear the story or what?" Tyler asked, glaring at his friends for their interruption and doubt. They all shrugged, pretending nonchalance though each was excited to hear the story. Their parents had told them the small pieces they knew, but something about sitting at the scene made the story all the more plausible._

" _Okay, so little Isabella Swan was a wallflower. The daughter of the chief of police and his wife, the product of a passionate love and the catalyst for a shot gun wedding. Her parents fought all the time, she often went to sleep to the soothing sounds of plates hitting the wall and doors slamming. At school, she never spoke and was a completely social outcast. Until one day… she caught the attention of a man." Tyler waggled his eyebrows at the implication. Angela rolled her eyes and snuggled closer to Ben._

" _And so the sordid affair began. Isabella found herself in the arms of an older man, someone who made her feel special. But there was a twist...He was also involved in an affair with another woman. A married woman." He paused for effect. "Renee Swan."_

" _Oh that is a bunch of shit," Mike called, throwing a hand full of chips at Tyler. "You've been watching too much porn, Ty. What, did mommy and daughter get it on with the same guy?" He rolled his eyes. Angela nursed her beer again, feeling uneasy at the turn of the conversation. The hair on her arms raised and her stomach churned._

" _What does that even have to do with the story?" Ben asked, rubbing his girlfriend's arm. "I heard that it was an animal attack." A heavy silence fell over the group as the crux of the matter was finally touched. The mystery surrounding the tragedy was intriguing, but it was the act itself that was the most mysterious of all._

" _I heard that when she found out about her mom, she wanted to call the whole thing off." Tyler continued. "And, in trying to convince her, he got violent and beat her to a pulp."_

" _But that doesn't explain the blood. My dad always said that there was blood everywhere! The walls, the floor, even the ceiling." Ben added, his eyes going wide as he remembered the many Halloweens his father told the story of Isabella Swan. From the age of seven, Ben was plagued with countless nightmares of blood dripping from the ceiling and seeping through the walls of the magnificent house in the forest. And yet, no matter how much sleep he lost over it, he still listened every year and waited for his turn at_ survive the night.

" _Yeah, an animal attack explains that better. My uncle said that a bear got in the house and mauled her before dragging her into the trees." Angela piped in, quietly. It was that story that made Angela avidly against hiking or camping. It took her friends weeks to convince her to even come out tonight._

" _But that doesn't explain why no one found a body." Mike groaned, frustrated by the never ending questions. Jessica giggled and wiggled out of his lap. She reached into the center of the circle and pulled the backpack toward her._

" _Well, we all know who can answer our questions…" She trailed off as she roughly pulled a box from the inside of the bag._

" _Jess! Why did you bring that?" Angela shrieked, jerking away from Ben and away from the box. Jessica ignored her and pulled the board out of the box._

" _Why don't we ask Isabella Swan ourselves?"_


	4. Chapter 4

January 3rd 12:37 p.m.

 _It was complete nonsense._ I thought to myself again, my eyes flickering to the concealed attic through my open door. Ever since my attention was first drawn to it, my eyes would wander every so often. No matter how much I attempted to distract myself, the scent of the house always brought my focus back to the strange phenomenon. The floral scent was concentrated directly underneath the attic. No matter how many times I tried to discredit the idea… it was true. When I made my way back into my room, I first walked around the space of the attic, noting how the ancient scent never altered. Then, I doubled back and walked directly under it… my nostrils flaring as the warm smell filled my being.

I reorganized my music again, trying an entirely new system: by year, then genre, then preference. It did not take long for my eyes to wander again. Something was up there. Something that specifically created that scent. Something that never left the attic.

Before I knew it, I was in the hallway, my piano bench nestled directly under the attic.

"Curiosity killed the cat," Alice chimed, flitting up the stairs as I climbed up. Ignoring her, I ran my fingertips over the spackled ceiling. The repair could have been done better. Perhaps it was human error or some force that made the easily concealable space entirely noticeable, but the wood and plaster combined stuck out almost a full inch from the rest of the ceiling. Placing both hands on the side of the protrusion, I applied just a small amount of force, smirking with the plaster gave way and fell on top of us in a cloud of white dust.

 _Edward Anthony! What are you doing?_ Esme seethed.

"I will clean it up," I promised half-heartedly, carefully removing the plank of wood that covered the hole. Immediately, that scent that had been torturing me since the moment we moved in swirled around me. I could feel my eyes darken dangerously. It was tantalizing. The right balance of warmth and light with the earthy tones of nature. Now that I was close to the source, I could detect a hint of something mystical… like the quiet aroma of dew in the morning.

I blinked, forcing myself to focus on the opening. It was small and had two tracks lining one side that could have been for a ladder. The wood was dark and questionable. It was no one a human had fallen through and broken a bone, it was clear that the foundation of the room was completely gone. I appraised the entrance for another moment. The entire perimeter seemed to be rotten through. I crouched slightly and launched myself straight through the opening, hoping that maybe whatever vampire control I had would keep me from falling through the floor.

Esme would never forgive me if I destroyed the house too much.

As luck would have it, though the room was completely dark, I was able to almost instantaneously see the spots on the floor that were still solid. I landed quietly and lightly, taking in the dark room around me.

It was, at one point, a studio. The walls were covered with blank canvases and lined with paintbrushes and shelves filled to the brim with vials of paint. On the table in the corner was a half-finished bust, the sculpting tools still resting beside it, covered in dust. There were four easels set in a circle. Surreptitiously, I tip-toed to the center of the circle to take a look. As I moved, the scent became stronger.

I was only half aware of Alice following me into the attic.

Three of the canvases were full and, as a whole, all seemed to be telling the same story. One canvases was completely covered in shades of black and gray, arranged in such a way that was hypnotizing. After staring at it for only a few seconds I began to feel as if it were pulling me in, as if I were falling into the painting and the blackness was stretching out in front of me. Alice's gasp brought me back to the present. She was staring at the next canvas which, upon first glance, looked nearly identical to the first one. Yet something was different. It was hard for even me to see, to a human it would have been entirely imperceptible…

There was a pair of red eyes staring out from the never ending blackness. They glared with a lifelikeness that made my arms wrap around myself subconsciously. The threat, the longing, the uncontrollable need, desire, and sadism rated from the eyes that were so dark with lust that they nearly blended in with the abyss.

Alice threaded her arm through mine, squeezing tightly before pulling me toward the third painting.

 _Blood._ The thought passed through both of our minds as we stared at the shocking red that was splattered over the white canvas. For a brief moment… I thought it was actual blood, except the paint had dried a vivid crimson rather than fading to a rusted brown as blood tended to do. The effect was not tainted though, the story obviously taking a violent and devastating turn. Quickly, I looked to the last canvas hoping for some relief from the darkness that encompassed the room.

Nothing. The canvas was completely blank, though there were paints neatly displayed on the edge of the easel. It was as if the artist never got around to finishing the story.

And with dread creeping up my spine as I looked at the missing piece, I tried to pretend that I did not know the reason why.


	5. Chapter 5

_August 3rd 12:28 a.m._

 _Angela jumped from her seat and the safety of Ben's arms, staring at the board and her friend in disbelief, shock and fear. "Jessica Stanely, why did you bring that?!" Growing up a minister's daughter, Angela believed in the power of the Ouija board. Just being in the same room in it, unmasked and waiting to call on its first visitor, was sending shivers of dread down her spine. Ben stood next to her, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and backing them away even further. He too could feel the power and, though he never truly knew whether or not he believed that a Ouija board was anymore than a sleepover game, he knew that he never wanted to take the risk. Jessica shrugged and gingerly laid the board on the floor, it's new laminate contrasting disturbingly with the worn floors._

" _You can't go to a haunted house without one," she spoke in a matter-of-fact tone, characterized with her signature eyeroll. "It's in the rules or something." Never taking her eyes off of it, she carefully pulled her hair into a ponytail, preparing herself. On either side of her, Mike and Tyler exchanged raised eyebrows before unconsciously scooting closer to the board. The trifecta formed a small circle it, shutting out Ben and Angela._

" _Come on, Ang." Ben whispered, gently guiding her around the circle. "We don't have to participate in this." He deftly guided his girlfriend toward the stairs, ignoring his friends catcalls and digs. Angela was quiet, as soon as the board was out of her sight, she glued her eyes to the floor allowing Ben to lead her. The grand staircase was in surprisingly good shape, having been protected from the elements. Still, severe neglect and age caused the couple to carefully navigate their way up, testing each step before committing to the climb. Beneath them, the rest of their group had fallen into whispers, heading into an entirely different world as the couple escaped to safety in the upper floors of the house._

 _The first thing Angela noticed about the second floor, was that each door was open and then, upon further investigation, each room was completely empty. Where the bottom floor held an eeriness that was almost a reminder that life had once thrived and then died here, this floor was completely devoid of all feelings. It was stagnant, stale, and held a nothingness that was more suffocating than it was soothing._

The calm before the storm, _Angela thought, pulling herself even closer to Ben. They didn't speak as they slowly made their way down the hall, to the next staircase, each affected by the void that engulfed the floor. The stairs to the third floor were smaller than the others, but seemed to have been more affected by time. Each step held tiny holes-_ Termites, _Ben noticed as he subtly moved Angela to more stable part of the step- and creaked under the weight of intruders. By the fourth step, the couple knew that logically it would be unwise to continue their trek and they should just leave the third floor alone._

 _And yet, they couldn't find the will to turn back. Never looking back, never speaking, but knowing that they should, the couple continued up the stairs drawn by some invisible force._

 _The third floor held one room. In the past it had served many purposes. Sometimes it was a game room, sometimes it was a sitting room, and sometimes-and most recently- it had been a sanctuary. The empty room had once been covered wall to wall with books, a cozy second-hand blue couch had sat in the the center of the room, flanked with two lamps that casted a warm red glow over the room. More often than not, books had been stacked beside the couch, set aside for later, and papers were scattered over the floor-homework that was forgotten and neglected amongst the literature. Occasionally, amongst the academia, someone would find a short story or two, a burst of creativity that had to be tamed and tied to a sheet of paper in an instant before it was lost forever._

 _And when the paper could not contain it, the attic did._

 _Without even realizing it, the couple had turned from the barren room and stared at the entrance to the attic. Ben reached up and carefully pulled the ladder down, coughing as a cloud of dust billowed around them. Angela wrapped her arms around herself, gazing up into the darkness of the attic, suddenly feeling cold._

" _I don't think we should go up there." She whispered, not looking away._

" _Probably not." He answered her. But they would. They had to. Something about the atmosphere that dripped through the opening, released for the first time in decades. It was denser and darker than the rest of the house. It wrapped around the couple, pulling them toward the attic. They were caught in the ghost of the house._

 _They had to go into the attic, whether they wanted to or not._

 _Ben climbed first, verballing noting which rungs were rotten through and pulling himself past them. As soon as he pulled himself over the ledge, Angela was following him taking into account the warnings he had given. With only two rungs to go, Ben reached through and hooked his arms under hers and pulled her into the attic, not wanting to take the chance of her falling from this height. Immediately entering the space, both Ben and Angela felt as if a cold vice were constricting around their chests pulling them deeper into the room. Ben pulled Angela close and flickered the light of the flashlight around the room, taking in their surroundings._

 _The walls were shelved and heavily adorned with paintings. The couple gazed in amazement. Where the rest of the house was barren and devoid of life, the attic was oozing with a thrive energy that lived in the art that had, for some reason, been left behind. Each painting stood out for a different reason, whether the color contrast or the subject, the technique or the simplicity._

 _Ben could not take his eyes off of a painting, sitting toward the edge of one wall, that depicted a fiery conflagration that grew from the heart of paper doll. Though the flames utterly consumed the doll, leaving nothing but ash, the small glimpse of the dolls blank face left Ben with a sense of satisfaction, as if the doll was fine with its destruction, as long as its power was known. Angela was fixated on a canvas further into the room that depicted layers upon layers of color, as if the artist had simply let paint drip and run over each other until the entire canvas was covered in a chaotic organization of hues. It wasn't upon further investigation that Angela noticed, hidden between the layers was a quote: "I burn, I pine, I perish."_

 _While Ben and Angela were exploring the various canvases in the attic, below their friends were making one last attempt at using the Ouija board._

" _I swear to God, if you guys move it again I am leaving." Jessica huffed, glaring at the boys who smirked at each other, having enjoyed their prank on her. The look of astonishment, fear and triumph that had crossed her face when either boys had subtly moved the piece was enough to suffer her wrath when she learned the truth. Even Mike had risked a night without sex to see it._

" _Oh come on, Jess… Do you really expect this to work?" Mike asked, rolling his eyes and shoving her shoulder playfully. Her answering glare was enough to send him back into position, two fingers on his side of the planchette. Jessica quickly checked that the flashlights were clearly illuminating the board before taking a deep breath to center herself. Jessica placed her index and middle fingers onto the cursor Tyler made himself comfortable, watching the board with his pen in hand, his notepad resting on his lap.. The group sat in silence for a moment, their eyes closed, concentrating on what they wanted to happen, opening themselves up to the house. Slowly, Mike and Jessica added equal pressure, moving the pointer in a circle "warming up" the board as the instructions said._

 _They rested the pointer over the_ G _and waited for a breath._

" _If there are any spirits here, this is a safe place." Jessica paused, concentrating on the questions she wanted to ask Isabella Swan. "We have a few questions, if you are willing to make contact."_

 _Nothing happened for a moment before the planchette slowly began to move jerkily toward the bottom corner of the board. Jessica whispered under her breath to Mike, asking if he was pulling her leg again. His equally wide eyes was all the answer she needed as the pointer hovered over_ HELLO.


End file.
